A Long Shadow
by glitzyoptics
Summary: With the defeat of Dr. Curt Connors behind him, Peter Parker is ready to kick back and relax for the summer but quickly finds out otherwise. With mobs and criminals running rampant, Peter gets the vibe that something big is disturbing the peace; the ringleader to this whole criminal circus. To get to the ringleader; he encounters friends and foes that challenge him to his limit.
1. Chapter 1

ALS/FF

**Chapter I**

The only thing that Peter felt his the suit took away from was feeling of the wind against his face, the sensation of falling free, the freedom of a bird in mid-flight. There was nothing deniable about the depression in his gut as he flung himself from a building ledge, hundreds of feet above the street level. But the raw wind rushing past him was something he missed out on, a sense he wanted to be engulfed in.

More times than not, Peter found himself away from his small, cramp townhouse and pondering across the expanses of New York City, miles high above the average pedestrian, leaving traces of himself, evidence of the dangling webs, at every building from the Oscorp Complex to the Empire State Building. There was something incredibly exhilarating about being able to _feel _with heightened senses, being able to perceive the very air molecules fanning across his masked face, being able to hear the sounds of impending sirens dozens of blocks away, and being able to move with the agility that no human should have been able to achieve.

There was something exhilarating about sitting on top of any given building and having a front row seat to a marvelous sunset. It wasn't anything new but having his feet dangling off a fifty-story building made it all the more exciting.

Slowly standing from his feet, he didn't hesitate stepping off the building and plunging groundward. Any individual falling in the same fashion would not have been able to act as he did. With heightened senses, Peter could manipulate time, see slow and calculate where and when to shoot his webs. He expertly began to make his way down the wide expanses between buildings swinging to and fro.

On this particular June evening, he had a dinner date with the one and only Gwen Stacy at a small cafe in the suburbs of Midtown. He had different ways of getting ready for a date than a typical guy his age. In total, he would spend an hour getting ready. However, forty-five of those minutes were spent roaming around the city, miles high, running his usual sweep before he would arrive back to his townhouse, take a shower and take the railway to the cafe and still be there on time. Gwen didn't seem to have any problem with it. "As long as you're alive and showered, that's all that matters to me." she would say.

After completing Peter's sweep, he began his way back toward home but a cry caught his attention. From below on a street corner, a man in a dark leather jacket sprinted through the thick pedestrian traffic crossing the street with a Coach purse in his fist, leaving a very frightened woman long behind, screaming, "_Hey!" _

Dropping along a wall, Peter slid down to stop the momentum of his swing before landing roughly and sprinting toward the shaken woman. "Just a second, ma'am, I got this. Don't worry - I get this all the time."

Pushing his way through the crowd, the man in his view, Pete hoisted himself up above the heads with a shot of his web and caught up with the man in no time. "Hey man, it's not cool to steal people's purses. I mean, are you new to this?" With a quick snatch, the purse was in Peter's hand and with a few shots of web, the man was plastered to a department store window.

"I guess you are new to this." Peter was in the man's face. "Stealing purses is like grade one stupid for criminals. If you really wanted to make it out there in the world as a criminal, I would suggest, I don't know, trying to rob a bank or something like that, you know? I don't know - whatever works for you but look where this got you? Webbed up and purseless." He shook the purse in hand.

By this time, the woman, breathless, had caught up and Peter returned the purse. The woman showered Peter in thank-yous before he promptly gave a pat on her shoulder and a quick, "Try to keep better hold of your purse." before shooting a web and swinging away from the scene.

Judging from the receding sun, Peter knew he didn't have much time to get back home and meet up with Gwen for dinner. Making it back home in record time, he hastily changed out of his suit on the rooftop before bursting through the front door. Peter was greeted by the sound of his Aunt May rummaging in the kitchen.

"Peter?"

"Yes, yes, what Aunt May?" Peter was already halfway up the stairs.

"I'm working two shifts tonight so there's some leftovers in the fridge if you-"

"It's okay, Aunt May, I'm going out to dinner with Gwen anyway so it's okay. Thanks anyway." with that said, he ran up the stairs and to his bathroom, took the shortest, most productive shower in the history of anything, got dressed in something presentable before running back out the front door. All done in about twenty minutes.

Now, getting from the house to the cafe would be easy - if he was taking the Spidey approach. However he needed something less conspicuous and even if he did take that approach Gwen would know. She always said there was a certain smell to the spandex of his suit that left a recognizable smell on him that she could catch. And she said it made her think of less calming things, which was why she condoned it so much.

He was going to be late; it was inevitable at this point. Be late... or have Gwen be upset with Peter... It was a heavy decision to make and it came with heavy repercussions too. Peter had been trying to be very careful about the slip-ups he made and had been very aware of the things that peeved Gwen because, as of the late, their relationship was still treading on thin ice. Peter could still feel the residue of Captain's Stacy's death fresh on every topic their conversations grazed and along with that feeling came a pang of guilt. An almost elementary feeling that you get when you know you're doing something wrong but you're feeling too much of a rebel to do anything about it. But this wasn't some petty elementary situation; it was a promise Peter had made to a man in his last dying breaths. Dating Gwen was a big no-no and a few weeks after Captain Stacy's funeral were rough. Going to Chemistry Honors was worst part of his day and likely ruined it to see the girl that he had fallen so hard for sitting, quiet and hurting without anyone to care for her. Despite the normal perks of being a relationship, Peter found himself missing just listening to her talk in the few weeks void of her in his life the most He was not much of a coherent talker but she was; she was charismatic and eloquent. He could listen to her for hours but in those few weeks, he had to listen to the sound of her drab voice answer lazily to their professors questions in their Chemistry class instead of what Peter had come to love, the soft intonations and laughs that came from her lips.

But love always finds its way. Both of their paths crossed again and the temptation to dive back into their adoration for one another was too much to resist. There was something cosmic about their love; something that rang of intangibility. How could a girl who's top of her class and so striking love a boy who trips over his own shoelaces and finds something soothing in photography?

Though... Peter _was _Spiderman. It had it's perks. No longer was he a thin and lanky boy with shaggy hair. But he was now a lean and built man with shaggy hair. The hair would stay - Peter had decided months ago even though it was a little uncomfortable underneath the spandex suit. Gwen liked it so it stayed.

But Peter noticed Gwen's attraction towards him increased after he had become Spiderman.. Sometimes, Peter was convinced that she only saw interest in him because he was Spiderman but sometimes the longing looks and shy smiles she would give him persuaded him otherwise. Perhaps Gwen liked the danger, the thrill of dating someone who was so unlike her. Gwen wouldn't even think about skipping class let alone jumping feet first into a sewer to find a psychotic mutant lizard man. Peter couldn't deny that opposites did attract in his situation.

The railway ground to a halt at Peter's stop and he hastily made his way off and towards the cafe, glistening and humming with a warm aura of music and aromatic fragrances of bread and coffee. Peter glanced at his watch: 7:26. Well, he was twenty-six minutes late. That must have been a record for he approached the cafe, he already spotted Gwen sitting in the large paneled window in plain sight from the sidewalk.

She was sitting with her nose buried in a textbook across from an empty chair. Aside from her attractive and innocent features with smooth unblemished skin, Peter noticed her chardonnay blonde hair was not in its usual straightened manner; in fact, it was curled into loose coils that fell around her face like a shiny curtain of silk. That was new and Peter liked it a lot.

Peter slipped into the cafe and into the chair across from her so quietly that she didn't notice him immediately. When she finally looked up, a startled look stole her face and she gasped, "Oh my God, Peter..." but she smiled, "how long have you been there?"

"Oh, not long, is thirty-minutes a long time?" he glanced at his watch jokingly.

"Well, thirty minutes is a long time if we agreed on seven o'clock." Gwen's voice had descended into her iron cold scientist voice they would often joke about but in certain instances, it was biting.

"I'm sorry, Gwen, I just..."

"Got caught up." she finished, her icy green eyes boring a hole into his face. "Got caught up, right."

"Some people think it's still a thing to steal purses. Not my problem, Gwen." He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. It was hard for Gwen to argue and be mad when he was practically a vigliante and doing good. Compared to other people their age, there could be a whole bevy of worser things that he could have participated in. Maybe his last remark was a bit caustic but he was on the defense. If she wanted to date Spiderman, she had to deal with the fact that sometimes he would be late because people were idiots and doing idiotic criminal things. It was just part of it.

Gwen heaved a sigh and closed her textbook. "Fine, I don't want to argue anyway. I just want to enjoy the evening, that's all." She placed her hand over his and gave him a sincere smile.

With that being said, they enjoyed the rest of their evening with light conversation about how they were planning on spending their summers. Gwen mentioned something about her family having plans to go to upstate New York to visit some relatives sometime in July, while Peter wanted to eventually hit the beach.

"Aren't spiders not supposed to like water?" Gwen grinned.

"Where does that come from?"

In a slightly musical yet quizzical voice, she sang, "The itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the waterspout...?"

Peter laughed. "No, no, come on now..."

She continued, trying hard not to burst out in laughter. "down came the rain and washed the spider out?"

"That's rain!" Peter cried, "Beach and rain are two totally different things. And that's a mother goose rhyme, why would that even remotely apply to real life?" They laughed together. "And besides," he added, hushed, "I'm not that much like a spider." As soon as it came out of his mouth, he knew it sounded stupid and it didn't stop a look from crossing Gwen's face.

A single thin eyebrow raised on her forehead as she gave Peter the most questionable expression he'd ever seen on her face, a smirk married to a face that could only be described as someone trying not to laugh. "That is the biggest lie..." she paused to laugh, "I've ever heard."

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he blushed, trying to desperately grab traction anywhere he could. "I mean of course, I am - I mean, no I'm not!"

They just laughed and laughed. The happiness and attraction vibes were so thick between them you could easily reach out and feel them. All was well. They were happy and alive. That's all Peter could have asked for: happiness and life especially after encountering Dr. Connors and Gwen losing her father. Life and happiness were the adverse of what had dominated their lives for nearly five months however it could easily be seen being restored back into their lives.

It was all he could have asked for.

They finished their dinner an hour and a half later and departed from the cafe back and to the railway. But Gwen grabbed his bicep possessively and brought his head down to her lips.

"I don't want to take the railway." She said.

A smile spread across Peter's lips. "How do you want to get back then?"

Gwen just gave him her dazzling smile. Peter didn't have to ask; he knew what she meant. He started for an alley before throwing her onto his back effortlessly and began crawling up the wall. "Hang on now, don't want your pretty little self-" he tipped purposefully and she slipped off his back slightly uttering a small cry of surprise. He gripped her tightly to him. "all over the ground, now do we?"

"You're such a tease..." She gave him a quick kiss before he continued to expertly climb up the building wall.

Making it up at least seven stories in a few minutes, they made it to the top and before them stretched the dazzling cityscape of New York City after dark. The city was the pinnacle of modern society with it's golden ambient lights blocking out the sparkling remnants the stars held in the night sky. But if there were onlookers peering down at the city, they would be fascinated at the sprawling expanses and exciting activity, through the night. A city that never slept and along with that the criminal activity never ceased.

Sometimes Peter wondered how much criminal activity went on underneath the police's nose, _his _nose without ever getting caught. There always was but the stinging feeling of inadequacy of never finding it and stopping it sometimes kept Peter up at night. He was a vigilante - he couldn't stop it all and he would have to be okay with that.

Gwen and Peter found themselves mesmerized by the sight, the sounds, the aura. It was all hypnotizing in it's own way that Peter could never quite put a finger on. He usually found himself all by his lonesome on these rooftops - the only refuge that suited him well but tonight it was different. He had Gwen, warm and soft against him.

For what seemed an eternity, they stood together, arms wound around one another staring out into the cityscape, silent. Eventually, Peter checked his watch: 9:58. He ought to get Gwen home, she had work in the morning and he didn't want her slugging her way through the morning as she sometimes did because of long nights spent studying. She needed her sleep. He began to move but she held him tight. "No," she whispered.

"Come on, Gwen, we really need to get you home because don't you..." she took him by his chin and capturing his gaze in hers dissolving the conclusion to his sentence in midair.

Her lips found his and her kiss eliminated any hope he had for finishing his sentence. Peter always loved the way she kissed, soft, calculatedly, and expertly. Peter was so clumsy and awkward that it was reassuring to know that at least someone knew what they were doing. However, he was not completely helpless.

He pulled her close as their kiss intensified. She would normally kiss him, softly and gently but this evening it held such a different vigor to it, the way her lips moved and her tongue hungrily tasted his mouth; there was something erotic about it that sent a tightening feeling through his gut.

She pulled away from him, her hands on his face and they took a long moment to stare into one another before transcending into another passionate kiss. Her fingers wove into his hair, gripping him tightly to her. It was a fervor he didn't remember there ever being...

He wondered what had sparked the sudden energy. Was it their loneliness on the rooftop? Was it the relaxing dinner? Or was the it product of all the anxiety that had wound itself between them? Or was it the relief they finally had each other again? Whatever it was, Peter desperately wanted to figure out what it meant.


	2. Chapter 2

ALS/FF

**Chapter I**

The only thing that Peter felt his the suit took away from was feeling of the wind against his face, the sensation of falling free, the freedom of a bird in mid-flight. There was nothing deniable about the depression in his gut as he flung himself from a building ledge, hundreds of feet above the street level. But the raw wind rushing past him was something he missed out on, a sense he wanted to be engulfed in.

More times than not, Peter found himself away from his small, cramp townhouse and pondering across the expanses of New York City, miles high above the average pedestrian, leaving traces of himself, evidence of the dangling webs, at every building from the Oscorp Complex to the Empire State Building. There was something incredibly exhilarating about being able to _feel _with heightened senses, being able to perceive the very air molecules fanning across his masked face, being able to hear the sounds of impending sirens dozens of blocks away, and being able to move with the agility that no human should have been able to achieve.

There was something exhilarating about sitting on top of any given building and having a front row seat to a marvelous sunset. It wasn't anything new but having his feet dangling off a fifty-story building made it all the more exciting.

Slowly standing from his feet, he didn't hesitate stepping off the building and plunging groundward. Any individual falling in the same fashion would not have been able to act as he did. With heightened senses, Peter could manipulate time, see slow and calculate where and when to shoot his webs. He expertly began to make his way down the wide expanses between buildings swinging to and fro.

On this particular June evening, he had a dinner date with the one and only Gwen Stacy at a small cafe in the suburbs of Midtown. He had different ways of getting ready for a date than a typical guy his age. In total, he would spend an hour getting ready. However, forty-five of those minutes were spent roaming around the city, miles high, running his usual sweep before he would arrive back to his townhouse, take a shower and take the railway to the cafe and still be there on time. Gwen didn't seem to have any problem with it. "As long as you're alive and showered, that's all that matters to me." she would say.

After completing Peter's sweep, he began his way back toward home but a cry caught his attention. From below on a street corner, a man in a dark leather jacket sprinted through the thick pedestrian traffic crossing the street with a Coach purse in his fist, leaving a very frightened woman long behind, screaming, "_Hey!" _

Dropping along a wall, Peter slid down to stop the momentum of his swing before landing roughly and sprinting toward the shaken woman. "Just a second, ma'am, I got this. Don't worry - I get this all the time."

Pushing his way through the crowd, the man in his view, Pete hoisted himself up above the heads with a shot of his web and caught up with the man in no time. "Hey man, it's not cool to steal people's purses. I mean, are you new to this?" With a quick snatch, the purse was in Peter's hand and with a few shots of web, the man was plastered to a department store window.

"I guess you are new to this." Peter was in the man's face. "Stealing purses is like grade one stupid for criminals. If you really wanted to make it out there in the world as a criminal, I would suggest, I don't know, trying to rob a bank or something like that, you know? I don't know - whatever works for you but look where this got you? Webbed up and purseless." He shook the purse in hand.

By this time, the woman, breathless, had caught up and Peter returned the purse. The woman showered Peter in thank-yous before he promptly gave a pat on her shoulder and a quick, "Try to keep better hold of your purse." before shooting a web and swinging away from the scene.

Judging from the receding sun, Peter knew he didn't have much time to get back home and meet up with Gwen for dinner. Making it back home in record time, he hastily changed out of his suit on the rooftop before bursting through the front door. Peter was greeted by the sound of his Aunt May rummaging in the kitchen.

"Peter?"

"Yes, yes, what Aunt May?" Peter was already halfway up the stairs.

"I'm working two shifts tonight so there's some leftovers in the fridge if you-"

"It's okay, Aunt May, I'm going out to dinner with Gwen anyway so it's okay. Thanks anyway." with that said, he ran up the stairs and to his bathroom, took the shortest, most productive shower in the history of anything, got dressed in something presentable before running back out the front door. All done in about twenty minutes.

Now, getting from the house to the cafe would be easy - if he was taking the Spidey approach. However he needed something less conspicuous and even if he did take that approach Gwen would know. She always said there was a certain smell to the spandex of his suit that left a recognizable smell on him that she could catch. And she said it made her think of less calming things, which was why she condoned it so much.

He was going to be late; it was inevitable at this point. Be late... or have Gwen be upset with Peter... It was a heavy decision to make and it came with heavy repercussions too. Peter had been trying to be very careful about the slip-ups he made and had been very aware of the things that peeved Gwen because, as of the late, their relationship was still treading on thin ice. Peter could still feel the residue of Captain's Stacy's death fresh on every topic their conversations grazed and along with that feeling came a pang of guilt. An almost elementary feeling that you get when you know you're doing something wrong but you're feeling too much of a rebel to do anything about it. But this wasn't some petty elementary situation; it was a promise Peter had made to a man in his last dying breaths. Dating Gwen was a big no-no and a few weeks after Captain Stacy's funeral were rough. Going to Chemistry Honors was worst part of his day and likely ruined it to see the girl that he had fallen so hard for sitting, quiet and hurting without anyone to care for her. Despite the normal perks of being a relationship, Peter found himself missing just listening to her talk in the few weeks void of her in his life the most He was not much of a coherent talker but she was; she was charismatic and eloquent. He could listen to her for hours but in those few weeks, he had to listen to the sound of her drab voice answer lazily to their professors questions in their Chemistry class instead of what Peter had come to love, the soft intonations and laughs that came from her lips.

But love always finds its way. Both of their paths crossed again and the temptation to dive back into their adoration for one another was too much to resist. There was something cosmic about their love; something that rang of intangibility. How could a girl who's top of her class and so striking love a boy who trips over his own shoelaces and finds something soothing in photography?

Though... Peter _was _Spiderman. It had it's perks. No longer was he a thin and lanky boy with shaggy hair. But he was now a lean and built man with shaggy hair. The hair would stay - Peter had decided months ago even though it was a little uncomfortable underneath the spandex suit. Gwen liked it so it stayed.

But Peter noticed Gwen's attraction towards him increased after he had become Spiderman.. Sometimes, Peter was convinced that she only saw interest in him because he was Spiderman but sometimes the longing looks and shy smiles she would give him persuaded him otherwise. Perhaps Gwen liked the danger, the thrill of dating someone who was so unlike her. Gwen wouldn't even think about skipping class let alone jumping feet first into a sewer to find a psychotic mutant lizard man. Peter couldn't deny that opposites did attract in his situation.

The railway ground to a halt at Peter's stop and he hastily made his way off and towards the cafe, glistening and humming with a warm aura of music and aromatic fragrances of bread and coffee. Peter glanced at his watch: 7:26. Well, he was twenty-six minutes late. That must have been a record for he approached the cafe, he already spotted Gwen sitting in the large paneled window in plain sight from the sidewalk.

She was sitting with her nose buried in a textbook across from an empty chair. Aside from her attractive and innocent features with smooth unblemished skin, Peter noticed her chardonnay blonde hair was not in its usual straightened manner; in fact, it was curled into loose coils that fell around her face like a shiny curtain of silk. That was new and Peter liked it a lot.

Peter slipped into the cafe and into the chair across from her so quietly that she didn't notice him immediately. When she finally looked up, a startled look stole her face and she gasped, "Oh my God, Peter..." but she smiled, "how long have you been there?"

"Oh, not long, is thirty-minutes a long time?" he glanced at his watch jokingly.

"Well, thirty minutes is a long time if we agreed on seven o'clock." Gwen's voice had descended into her iron cold scientist voice they would often joke about but in certain instances, it was biting.

"I'm sorry, Gwen, I just..."

"Got caught up." she finished, her icy green eyes boring a hole into his face. "Got caught up, right."

"Some people think it's still a thing to steal purses. Not my problem, Gwen." He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. It was hard for Gwen to argue and be mad when he was practically a vigliante and doing good. Compared to other people their age, there could be a whole bevy of worser things that he could have participated in. Maybe his last remark was a bit caustic but he was on the defense. If she wanted to date Spiderman, she had to deal with the fact that sometimes he would be late because people were idiots and doing idiotic criminal things. It was just part of it.

Gwen heaved a sigh and closed her textbook. "Fine, I don't want to argue anyway. I just want to enjoy the evening, that's all." She placed her hand over his and gave him a sincere smile.

With that being said, they enjoyed the rest of their evening with light conversation about how they were planning on spending their summers. Gwen mentioned something about her family having plans to go to upstate New York to visit some relatives sometime in July, while Peter wanted to eventually hit the beach.

"Aren't spiders not supposed to like water?" Gwen grinned.

"Where does that come from?"

In a slightly musical yet quizzical voice, she sang, "The itsy-bitsy spider crawled up the waterspout...?"

Peter laughed. "No, no, come on now..."

She continued, trying hard not to burst out in laughter. "down came the rain and washed the spider out?"

"That's rain!" Peter cried, "Beach and rain are two totally different things. And that's a mother goose rhyme, why would that even remotely apply to real life?" They laughed together. "And besides," he added, hushed, "I'm not that much like a spider." As soon as it came out of his mouth, he knew it sounded stupid and it didn't stop a look from crossing Gwen's face.

A single thin eyebrow raised on her forehead as she gave Peter the most questionable expression he'd ever seen on her face, a smirk married to a face that could only be described as someone trying not to laugh. "That is the biggest lie..." she paused to laugh, "I've ever heard."

"No, no, that's not what I meant," he blushed, trying to desperately grab traction anywhere he could. "I mean of course, I am - I mean, no I'm not!"

They just laughed and laughed. The happiness and attraction vibes were so thick between them you could easily reach out and feel them. All was well. They were happy and alive. That's all Peter could have asked for: happiness and life especially after encountering Dr. Connors and Gwen losing her father. Life and happiness were the adverse of what had dominated their lives for nearly five months however it could easily be seen being restored back into their lives.

It was all he could have asked for.

They finished their dinner an hour and a half later and departed from the cafe back and to the railway. But Gwen grabbed his bicep possessively and brought his head down to her lips.

"I don't want to take the railway." She said.

A smile spread across Peter's lips. "How do you want to get back then?"

Gwen just gave him her dazzling smile. Peter didn't have to ask; he knew what she meant. He started for an alley before throwing her onto his back effortlessly and began crawling up the wall. "Hang on now, don't want your pretty little self-" he tipped purposefully and she slipped off his back slightly uttering a small cry of surprise. He gripped her tightly to him. "all over the ground, now do we?"

"You're such a tease..." She gave him a quick kiss before he continued to expertly climb up the building wall.

Making it up at least seven stories in a few minutes, they made it to the top and before them stretched the dazzling cityscape of New York City after dark. The city was the pinnacle of modern society with it's golden ambient lights blocking out the sparkling remnants the stars held in the night sky. But if there were onlookers peering down at the city, they would be fascinated at the sprawling expanses and exciting activity, through the night. A city that never slept and along with that the criminal activity never ceased.

Sometimes Peter wondered how much criminal activity went on underneath the police's nose, _his _nose without ever getting caught. There always was but the stinging feeling of inadequacy of never finding it and stopping it sometimes kept Peter up at night. He was a vigilante - he couldn't stop it all and he would have to be okay with that.

Gwen and Peter found themselves mesmerized by the sight, the sounds, the aura. It was all hypnotizing in it's own way that Peter could never quite put a finger on. He usually found himself all by his lonesome on these rooftops - the only refuge that suited him well but tonight it was different. He had Gwen, warm and soft against him.

For what seemed an eternity, they stood together, arms wound around one another staring out into the cityscape, silent. Eventually, Peter checked his watch: 9:58. He ought to get Gwen home, she had work in the morning and he didn't want her slugging her way through the morning as she sometimes did because of long nights spent studying. She needed her sleep. He began to move but she held him tight. "No," she whispered.

"Come on, Gwen, we really need to get you home because don't you..." she took him by his chin and capturing his gaze in hers dissolving the conclusion to his sentence in midair.

Her lips found his and her kiss eliminated any hope he had for finishing his sentence. Peter always loved the way she kissed, soft, calculatedly, and expertly. Peter was so clumsy and awkward that it was reassuring to know that at least someone knew what they were doing. However, he was not completely helpless.

He pulled her close as their kiss intensified. She would normally kiss him, softly and gently but this evening it held such a different vigor to it, the way her lips moved and her tongue hungrily tasted his mouth; there was something erotic about it that sent a tightening feeling through his gut.

She pulled away from him, her hands on his face and they took a long moment to stare into one another before transcending into another passionate kiss. Her fingers wove into his hair, gripping him tightly to her. It was a fervor he didn't remember there ever being...

He wondered what had sparked the sudden energy. Was it their loneliness on the rooftop? Was it the relaxing dinner? Or was the it product of all the anxiety that had wound itself between them? Or was it the relief they finally had each other again? Whatever it was, Peter desperately wanted to figure out what it meant.


	3. Chapter 3

ALS/FF

**Chapter 3 **

Just because Peter was Spiderman didn't mean that he couldn't have fun and generally be a teenager. So, what would a day going to the beach hurt? No one which was exactly why he was going to go. It took some convincing on his part to get Gwen to come along because she was persistent in telling him that she didn't want to go. But Peter couldn't see why not. He hadn't been to the beach in nearly two years and he couldn't see any other opportunity better than now. The only thing holding him back was that Gwen didn't want to come along with him and he most certainly didn't want to go alone.

Eventually, after much prodding, he was able to convince her to come and they chose a weekend when they were both free to drive over to a beach along the coast of the Atlantic. They arrived at a fairly populated beach but decided to find a more secluded location on foot. Five minutes later, with their beach bags and coolers in hand, they found the perfect place just beyond the grassy sand dunes.

The beach was along a bay with clean white sand, void of seaweed. The sky was an incredible shade of blue that day, one to which the horizon become one with the glittering blue water in the distance. There was no a cloud in sight. Across the way, sailboats could be seen gliding along the clear waves, their colorful sails catching the warm, summery winds, completely at it's mercy. Peter wasn't a huge beach goer but he knew they'd found a gem.

"Wow..." Gwen said under her breath. "Good find, Peter."

Peter just smile and they put their belongings just off of the waters edge but not within reaching distance of the water. For a while, they just sat there on their beach towels, leaning on one another, enjoying the balmy weather, the calming ebb and flow of the tides, and the steady rhythm of their heart beats.

It was so peaceful and much better than sitting in the middle of New York City where you can still feel the busy-busy aura the city produced. Here, all there was was the drone of the water and the occasional caw of the seagulls passing by overhead. It was exactly what they needed, to detach themselves from the bustle of everyday life and just for once, forget that she was Gwen Stacy, a researcher at Oscorp and forget that he was Peter Parker, Spiderman. Right now they were just a young couple enjoying an afternoon together. Just them.

Eventually, Gwen stood up and took off her shirt and shorts revealing a swimsuit Peter had never seen before that made his breath catch. It was a black one-piece, whose mid section was riddle with lace which showed off the curve of her waist and into her hips. She pulled her hair back and looked down at Peter with... a look. A look he'd never seen cross her face. If the fervor from the kiss they shared on that rooftop some nights ago could be conformed into a facial expression, that would be it.

"Where did..." he swallowed, "I've never seen that before." he said.

"It's something new I picked up. I figured I'd get something new this summer." she replied. She pulled him to his feet, "come on, let's go swim."

Peter stripped down to his swim trunks and they started for the water's edge, hand in hand. The sand felt pleasant on his feet. Gwen started into the water while Peter remained at the water's edge, just feeling it splash against his ankles. It had been a very long time since he'd been to the beach. He closed his eyes and just took in his surroundings.

"What are you waiting on?" Gwen called. She was already waist deep in the water.

"I can't remember the last time I've been to a beach." Peter replied, approaching her slowly. The water was chilly but weighed out evenly with the hot air. "And I'm just simply in awe by the beautiful girl standing before me."

Gwen laughed. "What did I say about doing that?"

"Doing what? Telling you the truth? You know, truth is a virtue."

"About wooing me like a twelve year old." Gwen grinned and put her arms around Peter's neck.

"A twelve year old?" Peter cried, nuzzling their foreheads together. "I'm six years older than that! Twelve year olds demand to be wooed as a twelve year old should."

"Oh stop it." She eliminated his response with a passionate kiss. They were shoulder deep in the water and the waves were egging them on to escalate from their amorous embrace to something more. However, Peter refrained but it was incredibly difficult when Gwen was pressed so close against him; he could feel every curve on her body.

"You stop it." Peter groaned between kisses.

Gwen pulled away. "Why should I?"

God, why did she have to be such a goddamn tease? "At the rate we're going at, I might just have to cut our lovely romantic beach visit short."

She smirked. "Care to elaborate?"

Normally when it reached this point, they would just laugh and do something else but that's not what happened this time. He jumped when he felt her slender fingers at the edge of his swim trunks.

"Gwen." Peter snapped.

She just continued to grin at him. Peter wasn't ready for this. Not here, not now. Maybe later but not now. He just couldn't. Not now. He pulled away from her. Her face immediately was stolen with embarrassment. Imagine that, the_ guy's _the nervous one. He removed her hand from his waist and held it to his lips. "Not now, babe."

"I... I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm thinking." Gwen started hastily for the shore.

"Hey now!" Peter called after her.

This was one of the biggest things he really hated about Gwen. She had the tendency to retreat as quick as she could when she was embarrassed, humiliated, upset, or confused. Then she would be stubborn as hell and become a bump on a log, no amount of coaxing could convince her otherwise. It was where their personalities clashed the most. Peter was flexible and if a problem arose, he would brush off how it came to be and deal with it and effectively find a solution. That was what being Spiderman had taught him. Gwen, on the other hand, liked to dwell on just how the problem came to be and forget that the issue could be resolved if she would accept it's existence and search for a solution instead of wondering uselessly about how it could have been prevented. He wasn't one to let anger get to him but he was pretty upset now.

He followed after her as quickly as the water would allow. "I hate it when you do this. Can you just hear me out for two seconds!" He caught her arm. "All I seem to be doing lately is pissing you off but can you at least allow me to explain myself?"

She slowly turned around. Peter could empathize with her embarrassment. How bad does she think he felt when he took her shirt off for the first time without any warning and had her turn him down? Exactly the same.

"Go ahead..." she said quietly.

He put a hand on her cheek to turn her face up. "Listen, I... it's not like I don't want to. Don't get me wrong. I do. But can we... just enjoy this a little bit more before we jump into those waters? Uh, bad pun."

She laughed. "Okay. Sorry, I do get ahead of myself sometimes."

Peter rolled his eyes and turned back for the water. "Oh do I know..." he grumbled.

"Excuse me?"

He just laughed.

They both sat at the water's edge and began to construct a sand castle of some sort of design. First they worked on one together but Gwen suggested that they build their own and see who could build their's the fastest and the neatest. Peter detested that idea but the challenge was too much to pass up. Once done, Gwen had built a pretty accomplished castle with two towers and she had even etched bricks and a door into the front. Peter's on the other hand was not remarkable by any means. In fact, the only thing impressible about it was the single white feather sticking out the top of the "castle" that the seagull that had attacked him earlier had left behind.

Now they found themselves laying on their towels, letting the warm sun bathe them both as they relaxed almost to the point of sleeping. Gwen laid on his chest and he had an arm cast around her, holding her tight. Their breaths became one after a time.

But suddenly, every sense in his body became tunneled as he focused on a singular noise. One that he couldn't immediately place and one that threw his entire self into overdrive, a familiar feeling he recognized when there was danger nearby. He sat up and removed his sunglasses. His vision was temporarily blinded by the radiance from the sand but his sight focused on a singular point of contact. A couple hundred feet from shore, Peter spotted one of the sailboats beginning to tip. The wind had become very strong in the past couple of minutes, he recalled and the sailboat boat coupled with an assumed amateur sailor couldn't take the power of the wind. Slowly, the wind caught the sail at an awkward angle and sent it collapsing into the water, it's occupants falling with it. His focus was so tunneled he hadn't realized Gwen was jabbing at him to get his attention.

"Peter, the boats fine. Haven't you ever gone sailing before?" Gwen assumed.

He shrugged her off and he stood, his attention never leaving the tipped sailboat as another gust of wind swept through.

"Sometimes the wind catches the boat wrong and you flip. It's not a big deal. They can get it back up. Unless it capsizes..."

There were three sailors, all splashing around trying to do something about their fallen sailboat but the sail began to take water much like dipping a towel into a pool and the relentless wind was not helping their situation. Promptly, it began to sink and along with it, the entire boat and the screams of the frightened sailors ensued.

Gwen cursed underneath her breath and grabbed at Peter. "Peter, you... you have to do something _now_. They're going to drown! Look how fast it's going down!"

He began to run back to where his black backpack was containing his suit but she shouted at him, livid, "_Go! _Forget the suit!"

Without another thought, his instincts took control as he ran into the water and dived in, treading water as fast as he could to reach the sinking boat. The white underbelly of the boat was shining skyward and the sailors were no where in sight. Trapped underneath the boat. Dragged down by the undertow. The bay was not incredibly deep but it was enough to engulf the entirety of the boat. As he reached the boat, he took a deep breath before diving under the waves to pull out the sailors. Blinking against the pointent sea water, he could see green and a red shirt and immediately, he grabbed what he could and yanked. They were just underneath the boat, holding onto the beams of the sail. He threw them to the surface and onto the underbelly of the boat. Not wasting another moment, he knew that there was one person missing. He dived again.

But he could not see anyone else. No sign of the missing third person.

Finally, the water reached a pocket of air that was trapped underneath the boat and engulfed it causing the boat to completely sink, leaving nothing more than the bottom spine showing just above the surface. The undertow of the boat yanked Peter down with a merciless grip that forced all the breath in his lungs out in a bubbly cloud.

He sank. The glittery surface was not far. The legs of the sailors were kicking fiercely as they tried to stay afloat but Peter could not. He was drowning down with the boat to the bitter, bottom of the bay. His vision became spotted with deathly black spots and his body was electrified by fear and adrenaline.

He would not accept this fate. With a quick, patchy glance, Peter saw a figure tangled in the sails ropes and with every ounce of energy he had left inside of him, he swam for the figure, grabbed a handful of whatever he could and struggled back to the surface. His vision began to fade but the muscles were still straining against the impending asphyxiation, the grinning death that awaited him if he let go, if he didn't fight against the urge to surrender.

However, he broke surface and inhaled just as much air as water. With the third sailor clutched against him, he was helped onto the half submerged bottom of the boat by the two other sailors. Gasping and retching the salty water from his lungs, Peter glanced up to the shore and saw that Gwen was no longer there. Why did he suddenly have the urge to sob?

The boat was gone beneath them, and they, clinging on to one another, drifted back to shore, the waves carrying them, their strength wasted. For a long time, they lay on the shore, choking and gasping for air. Peter lifted his head so he could finally see who the sailors were; a couple in their middle age and a young boy; the boy which had been tangled in the sails. They were all alive, conscious, just sickly shaken from the fear, the exhaustion and the stout salt water.

Peter and the older man locked eye contact and silently, they exchanged all they needed to, their thanks.

Gwen came back with three lifeguards and they helped all three sailors steady themselves but Gwen immediately went to Peter and pulled him into an embrace on the ground. She was on the verge of tears as she took his face in her hands. "Oh my god, you're alive. You don't know - how scary that was. I thought - I thought you weren't going to come back up!"

Peter was still at a loss of breath but he managed to speak, breathlessly, "You were right... Spiders... hate water. And I'm... no exception."

Gwen helped Peter back up to his feet where they were faced by the soaked couple and the smaller boy, clinging to the woman; the life guards flanking the group. "You're a very courageous, man." one of the lifeguards said.

"You're a hero." another reckoned.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

Peter's breath finally came to normal rhythm and he contemplated his answer. This was the part that he didn't normally encounter.

With his mask on, they knew who he was.

With his mask on, they didn't know who he was.

He caught himself because his immediate response was _your friendly neighborhood Spiderman. _That wouldn't work. Instead, he said, slowly: "If I did what anyone else would have done in that situation, I could be anyone. It doesn't matter who I am."

6


	4. Chapter 4

ALS/FF

**Chapter 4**

The following morning, Peter woke up still coughing up water from his lungs; it was one of those annoying feelings like when you've got water stuck in your ear. Except, he was a little afraid to fall asleep the past night because he had a scary moment when the thought crossed his mind that he could drown in his sleep if there was too much water in his lungs. But, he had woke up the following morning alive so he didn't think much of it.

Peter kept his head down as he ate his bowl of cereal. Aunt May was at the stove frying some eggs in a pan. The morning was quiet, aside from the radio humming in the bay window above the sink. It was nice after yesterday; the whole boat sinking incident had pretty much ruined any good mood he happened to be in.

"Do you want some eggs, Peter?" Aunt May asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"I'm good. Thanks though."

He was sore at his shoulders. He hadn't swam or partially drowned - whichever you prefer - in a long time. Maybe that whole going to the beach thing was a big waste of time. He wondered if he hadn't have been there that day, would that sailboat have sank and those people drown? Or would fate have handled it differently, like the family deciding to go to the zoo instead of sailboating? Peter felt like fate had a mocking sense of humor and it liked to follow him close behind. Sometimes, he felt trouble always found him and that Murphy's Law was the only law in his upside-down world.

Aunt May took a seat across from him and began to eat from her plate, looking over _The Daily Bugle. _Breakfast wasn't the same after Uncle Ben had passed. The kitchen in the mornings was missing of the smell of Uncle Ben making sausage. That was his job; cook the sausage while May made the eggs, and Peter would work the toaster because his cooking skills had yet to yield anything edible. Peter didn't even really like sausage but he missed the smell because it took him back to a time when things were good, when Uncle Ben was alive and Peter was just Peter Parker. No secrets. But those days were in the past and had been replaced with much more turbulent days. It's not like he had much of a choice about which way his life went at the moment considering things liked to collapse on top of him like that sailboat yesterday.

Peter was almost done with his cereal when the loud clanking of a falling fork threw him out of his trance-like drone and back to reality. Aunt May was clutching the newspaper tightly as she read over it frantically. "Peter, what the...?" her eyes were scanning hurriedly across the text.

"What?"

She flipped the paper around and shoved it at him. "You didn't tell me about this!"

His eyes immediately found what she was talking about. Reading loud just underneath the story of some millionaire passing away was the heading that read: _Man Saves Three From Drowning. 18-Year-Old Peter Parker saves an elderly couple and their young nephew from drowning when their sailboat capsized yesterday in the Jones Bay. _There was an entire column dedicated just to that story and yes, Peter did have to tell the couple and their nephew who he was because leaving it cryptically at: "It doesn't matter who I am." doesn't actually cut it. Peter didn't dare read it but he knew that Aunt May wasn't happy.

He looked up and her face was cast in stone, an expression of a cross between anger and frustration. "Why didn't you tell me this happened?" she demanded.

"Because... well, I didn't know how... how'd you take." he wasn't play this off very well.

"Now you're finding out!" she sighed, "well, I guess it's over now and I can't be mad at you for saving someone's life; in fact, saving _multiple _people's lives. But... why do you have to be so secretive about everything, Peter? It's like you're... you're hiding something from me."

_Maybe that's because I am, Aunt May. And not because I want to but because it's for your own good; for the good of everyone I care about. _

Peter sometimes took for granted the fact that his identity was so precious and it was the whole reason he had a mask in the first place. If people really knew who he was and could have a face to the person who was the webslinger... then sure, his biggest fans could easily locate his house and demand an autographs. But the other people who could locate him would be those who found his existence unneeded and psychos could find Aunt May, abduct her or kill her... for find Gwen, the person he'd sworn to keep out of harms way. Peter's identity was the thin line keeping all of those he loved out of harms way. It didn't matter how many people knew Peter Parker but it mattered how many people who knew Spiderman was and at the moment, Gwen and the dead were the only ones who truly knew who Spiderman was. Peter wanted to keep it that way unless it was inherently necessary.

And right now, it was not.

"Aunt May, you know I'm the worst at keeping secrets. Like remember that time Uncle Ben and I had bought you a new recipe book for your birthday and I left it out on the counter. Yeah, I'm a bad surprise gift... giver."

That got a laugh out of Aunt May and had completely avoided the situation entirely. Peter let out an inward sigh. She didn't need to know now... and maybe not ever. She was all he had left and Peter didn't want to compromise that. Yeah sure he "couldn't live without Gwen" but he certainly couldn't live without Aunt May. He wouldn't have any where to go and that frightened him more than he'd like to admit.

The morning proceeded as normal and Aunt May was casually doing the laundry and catching up on a tv show she had been watching in the living room, which left Peter to his own and to do what he pleased. He knew he should probably clean his room because Aunt May had been nagging at him to clean it for nearly a week now but instead he turned on his radio and tuned to the police's frequency. Peter didn't have a radio license but he knew it suited him fine because he didn't have any desire to interact with the people speaking on the radio. He just wanted to listen.

For a while, he listened to the chatter, flipping through his phone, trying to find another app to occupy his free time when a text popped up on his notification bar. It was from Gwen and it read: _Good morning love. _

He replied:_ Good morning to you _

Gwen: _Did you sleep alright?_

Peter: _I guess i don't really know much anymore. i'm sore as hell though_

Gwen: _yeah i figured, what are you up to today? _

Peter didn't want to immediately reply to her text. He had honestly just wanted to hang out at his house and not do anything of relative importance unless something popped up on the police scanners. Then his afternoon and possibly evening would be set. Gwen liked to hang out - a lot but Peter wasn't much into it. He didn't mind it but everyday was kind of redundant.

He rolled face down onto his bed before glancing up to look at his pig-sty of a room. There was a lot of trash on his desk and there was also a lot of his clothes on the floor. Peter could have sworn Aunt May had mentioned something about bringing down his clothes to be washed. He would bring down his normal clothes but not his suit. That was when he did his own laundry. Now that he thought about it, it could stand to be washed again. He hadn't worn it but it had a bunch of sand in it because somehow his bag ended up getting sand it from their beach trip. God, he hated sand.

Going to his closet, he took his suit from the floor and took a whiff.

It wasn't too bad. He shook it out and a few sand granules trickled out onto the floor. He probably ought to wash it.

"_Adam fourteen, code 2." _

Peter perked up and listened.

"_Fourteen responding, code 2, go ahead." _

"_Got a caller on a line with a report of a party of two on East Blanc Boulevard creating a public disturbance. Break -"_

"_Go ahead."_

"_Caller believes the suspects may be armed and violent. 10-0."_

"_Copy. I'm en route." _

Peter wasn't sure why this report seemed to claw at him like an animal. He had heard plenty of reports like these and there was no reason for this report to be of any interest but it had snagged his attention. He looked down at the suit in his hands and contemplated whether he really wanted to go after this call. It wouldn't be anything spectacular but he was dreading answering Gwen's text.

After a few moments, he was already slinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading out the front door. Aunt May didn't ask where he was going but told him to be back by nine o'clock. Running to take the train, he got on and got off at his usual stop and proceeded to the top of the building he often called his safe station. It was the rooftop on which he left his backpack, which contained his cellphone, wallet, and clothes. Peter sometimes felt uncomfortable about leaving his wallet because anyone stumbling across it might suspect something. But he assured himself that that was something that probably won't happen.

Peter didn't typically come out this early in the morning. It was probably around eleven o'clock and the sun was shining its proud face against the glass skyscrapers, glinting it's radiant rays in all directions. The sky was a placid shade of blue and there was a slightly chilly breeze that swept through, sending a shiver through him. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the summery air, flittering with the tinge of salt water that was left lingering on his suit. He shifted in it, pulling and adjusting the material on his legs. The sand was still somehow trapped inside his suit but it wasn't enough to truly cause him discomfort but enough to get on his nerves.

He then brought himself into focus and located where East Blanc was in comparison to him. It would take a minute or two to get there and somehow, Peter was completely fine with that.

He figured he should probably reply to Gwen now.

_Out in NYC right now being spider. maybe we can hang later. _

With that text sent, he tossed it back into his backpack and stepped off the buildings ledge, beginning to make his way over to where the "public disturbance" lay.

Before that whole spiderbite incident, Peter hadn't ever been coordinated, elegant, or acrobatic in any form or fashion. He could ride his skateboard without falling down and busting up his face and that was good enough for him. He didn't really try to do any tricks because the one time he tried, he almost broke his arm. Thankfully it was only a bruise but Uncle Ben confiscated it for a month. But with the agility he had achieved, he could accomplish more than just some lazy old skateboard trick. He never imagined he'd be doing backflips in mid air and running along walls hundreds of feet above street level, with the only safety net being the unforgiving asphalt below. He had never anticipated any of the agility, the flexibility, the fearlessness that came along with everything. Just because he was Spiderman didn't mean he was exempted from injury and pain but with heightened senses and inhuman abilities, he often forgot that sometimes. If he was ever injured, he was truly injured. But the fear... there was no fear. No fear of clumsiness, no fear of falling when he was swinging between buildings and navigating the city like some sort of acrobatic performer and this city was his stage. Gwen always told him how intriguing it was to watch him; it was like watching a painter conduct their masterpiece upon a canvas. Peter sometimes was too lost in the normalcy of it that he never took a step back and looked at what he was actually doing.

Reeling back into reality, Peter spotted East Blanc approaching as well as the police dispatcher on the call. He dropped onto the roof and overlooked into the street of East Blanc and didn't immediately find the problem. East Blanc was a middle-class area of NYC and there were plenty of people around. Whoever was calling hadn't been entirely specific about which two "suspects". Eventually, he singled out two young men speaking to each other pretty vibrantly. One threw his arms around in emphasis and the other cowered away from his gesticulations. Peter decided he needed to get closer.

Slinking along, he threw himself across the wide street and landed roughly on top of the roof of a street store. Lowering himself down on a web in a close alleyway, he listened closely to their conversation. Their side was to him as he lingered in the shadows, using it for what little cover it offered. Working in the day definitely had it's disadvantages.

"...think you understand how truly _stupid_ you are, Schultz." the older of the two sneered.

"What did... what did you think I was gonna do?" the other piped up, "Just let him go? Of course not! I had to do something. You can't tell me that... that..."

"You know what, I don't even wanna fucking _hear _it! This has gone on for way too long and I'm running out of patience. We _all_ are! The missus especially! You're not as important as you think you are; there are dozens of just like you who could use the money and all you're doing is screwing around and... letting _all this go_!"

Peter watched and listened closely. Something important was going on here and he had a good idea that it would need to be something to look into it. It sparked his interest; he knew this call had something more to it, something unspoken. Peter couldn't even begin to guess what they were talking about but it was intriguing nonetheless.

The patience of the older one was waning - it was written all over his face, as the veins in his neck writ the anger seething through him.

The other opened his mouth to pipe up again but the older wasn't about to hear it. Like slow motion, the older swung his fist back and knocked the other straight in the jaw, sending him sprawling on the sidewalk in an arc of blood.

That's when Peter jumped.

6


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

Peter didn't mean to hit the guy as hard as he hit him. The impact was enough to send him stumbling back and into the street where a taxi nearly hit him. Pulling the man back with his web, Peter managed to web him up against the wall, immobile. He probably didn't even know what had hit him.

Pedestrians looked over and store owners poked their heads out their stores to peer at where the commotion was coming from. The dispatcher was out of his cruiser and coming toward Peter. "I don't know what's going on here, officer. I was just in the neighborhood."

"Right," the officer wasn't convinced, Peter was sure.

Looking back, the other suspect was gone. Spinning, he found the man was sprinting down the alleyway as fast as he could. Without any thought, but a yell from the officer, Peter was already halfway there. Using his web to slingshot him the rest of the way, he managed to catch up with the suspect. Slinging a web out, Peter caught his ankle and yanked him to the ground. The man fell hard.

Peter began to reel him in, slowly but surely.

"No, no, whoa, _whoa _there!" he sputtered. He looked back at Spiderman, wide-eyed and frightened. "Hey, now, we can figure this out, man!"

With a handful of his shirt in Peter's fists, he picked him up and slammed him against the adjacent wall. The man was in his mid thirties, on the older side. His features, strong and square, were worn with stress and his chin was speckled with a wannabe goatee. His big brown eyes were wide and crazy with fear. He struggled against Peter's iron grip.

"The only thing we're going to figuring out is what the hell just went on here." Peter growled.

"What's it to you?!" the suspect cried, "don't you have a giant lizard to defeat or uh, Superman to battle with?"

Peter hulled him across the alleyway at a blinding speed and crushed him against a dumpster, strangling a yelp from the suspect. "You think this is all _really _funny but I don't find anyone laughing here. How about you give yourself a break and just answer my question, huh, buddy?"

"The only thing - that I'll tell you is, _ouch! _Goddammit, why do you have to... Listen here Spiderman, you better watch your back and stay out of East Blanc's business. I'm telling you for your own good, pal."

Typical bad-guy banter. _Watch your back man and stay out of my business man. _

"Alright... Alright..." Peter forced a sadistic laugh. "I get it. You think this is all a joke." He pulled away from the man before shooting a web on his back and flinging him farther down the alleyway where he hit a metal railing. Another web shot and the suspect was back in Peter's hands and slammed back against the dumpster.

The suspect's face was ridden with fear and clearly he was now beginning to understand that Spiderman wasn't in the mood to be screwed around with.

"You think this is some _joke, _don't you? Is it the suit? The webs? What if I was someone like that guy who just punched you right in the face? Would you listen to me then?!"

"You're a lot mouthier than I'd imagine..." the suspect muttered.

Peter grabbed a handful of the guy's hair and yanked it back to look straight into his beady brown eyes. "And you're not much for talking either. I asked you a question and I'd suggest you'd better answer it."

"I did answer it!" the suspect nearly shouted, "I don't know how to express that anymore than I already have! You're creating this whole scene for an answer that I've already given you. Go ahead - beat me up or kill me or whatever, but..." he paused, "just know I'm only the messenger, alright?"

Peter dropped the man and he slid down the dumpster in a heap, groaning. Just as Peter was turning to let the man go, his senses tunneled and he felt danger. From where, he couldn't locate it but spinning around he -

The next thing he knew, his vision exploded with blackened stars, coupled with a sharp pain at his temple. The impact from the blow sent him sprawling on his back. He blinked rapidly against the impending unconsciousness, desperately clawing at reality. If he blacked out here... no, he couldn't - it could have easily been the end of him.

Scrambling up, Peter was able to fight against the heavy curtain of unconsciousness and tried to identify what had just happened. In wavering vision, he saw the fleeing figure of not only the suspect but another figure as well. Peter stumbled and slumped against a wall, holding his head in his hands. A sickening wave of nausea swept through Peter. It had been a long time since he'd had this strong of an urge to puke; the lump at the back of his throat, the rolling in his gut. He ducked behind the dumpster, ripped his mask off and he proceeded to violently retch out his breakfast from earlier all over the grimy concrete.

He found his way to the ground and leaned against the wall for support. God, he hated throwing up. It was the most uncomfortable and unpleasant feeling in the world. He took a few minutes to gather himself before spitting the remnants of the wretch from his throat and standing. Pulling the mask over his face, he spotted the answer to his unasked question. Discarded on the ground was a long pipe that was roughly bent in half. Peter knew immediately what had happened; someone had come up behind him and hit him upside the head with it and ran off with the suspect.

_What dicks... _Peter thought.

He kicked the pipe and started up the wall.

Yeah sure he felt better after he'd thrown up but the headache that had settled in his head did not. It was like a tight strap around his entire head, worse at his temples. Whoever had hit him must have hit him as hard as humanly possible because the force was enough to knock Peter nearly senseless.

He made it back to the building where his backpack was through the haze of the headache and struggled the check his phone. 1:28. He was laying on his side, lazily swiping through Gwen's text messages. There was one at 10:56: _yeah we can. maybe a late lunch? _and then one at 12:32: _your aunt invited me lunch today. hope you can make it back by_

Sudden exhaustion had taken over his body and he wasn't able to read the last bit of her text message; his eyelids slipped and unconsciousness had finally found him, overriding any previous actions he had intended to do.

For a while, the unconsciousness was oddly reassuring and warm but as he began to phase out of it, his eyes cracking open to the brightness of the afternoon sun, he felt worse than he did before. He couldn't even manage to roll over and get up. Instead all he could do was lay there, in pain and immobile; even looking around was painful.

Peter knew he was injured. He had to have had a concussion or something. But frankly, he was surprised that someone possessed that much strength because Peter could handle a fifty foot drop just fine but apparently a direct blow to the head was different.

He finally rolled over onto his back with a groan and looked upward to see an airplane slowly glide by above him but the only thing he could pay attention to was the roar of traffic below; it was incredibly loud and it sounded as if it were right next to his ears. His suit was relatively aerated but he was sweating terribly underneath it. All in all, he was entirely too uncomfortable in his skin at the moment.

There was a long buzz from the phone in his hand in which he recognized as an incoming call. He pressed talk and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?" he croaked. His mouth tasted of mucus and it was thick in his throat.

"_Peter, where are you?_" It was Gwen.

"I'm... I'm out. What's up?"

"_It's nearly three. Did you get my text?_" she sounded annoyed, but he was struggling to recall the text she had sent him and what it had said. His memory yielded no recollection of it.

"Yes, I did. But... I don't really remember it."

"_Why not? Are you okay, Peter?_" her tone immediately changed as she began to catch drift that something was wrong.

"Not really..." he groaned.

"_What's wrong? Did something happen?_" she demanded.

"I... I hit my head. Pretty bad. I'm in the skate park right now. I can't really move. I might need you to come pick me up."

There was a pause and then, quickly, Gwen said, "_We'll be there in a few minutes. Hang on." _

The call disconnected.

Peter wasn't entirely sure if Gwen really believed his fib about being in the skate park. He might have been out of it but he had a knack for fibbing to cover up his tracks no matter what condition he found himself in. Pushing through the nausea and the pain, Peter got up, stripped off his suit and redressed into the clothes he had on earlier and started slowly his descent. He needed to get to the skate park before they did. It wouldn't have been an effective lie if he was walking up as they were. It took him from his house about twenty minutes to get there so he had time but he wasn't going to take his sweet time, no matter how much pain he was in.

Thankfully, this morning before he left he had decided to slip his skateboard in his backpack because he had actually wanted to come to the skatepark to waste some time later but all it seemed to be good for now was a cover-up.

The skatepark was normally relatively packed because it was the only one on this side of NYC but today it was surprisingly quiet; perfect, even better. The odds were in Peter's favor today despite the fact that he had gotten nearly knocked cold by a metal pipe. He sat down underneath a tree, skateboard across his lap and waited for them to arrive.

It was not even twenty minutes later when he spotted Gwen's small Malibu came into the parking lot and out of it came Gwen and Aunt May. They immediately come to him. He didn't even try to get up.

"Peter, what on Earth happened to you?" Aunt May nearly cried.

"I... I hit my head."

Both of the women standing before him both had a look of concern and as well as a look of annoyance. Peter could sympathize; he was nineteen, it was about time he'd stop being stupid and getting injured "skateboarding".

They both helped him to his feet and Aunt May's hand went to his head where his wavy hair fell and scrutinized the waves. "Where did you...?" she asked. Her fingers found a painful spot and he winced. "Never mind, I found it." She shook her head.

Gwen cringed. "What in the world did you hit it on?"

He gestured over to a rail. "I didn't land it."

Peter and Gwen caught eyes and Peter could see the look she was giving him; she knew that he was lying. Peter's lie could fool Aunt May but not Gwen. She had been too close to him to know otherwise. She knew when he was lying and she knew when he was telling the truth and now she knew it. Concern left her face and she just bit her lip.

_I'll tell you later, Gwen. _Peter thought.

"Do you have a headache?" Aunt May asked.

Peter nodded. "I threw up too..."

They didn't need anymore confirmation. They were off to the hospital in no time but had to spend at least half an hour in the waiting room. Peter wasn't the biggest fan of hospitals; they were generally a very unsettling place. How could a place that experienced death and birth be a place of any comfort to anyone?

The practitioner called for them and they proceeded to a small room where the practitioner began to examine him. It didn't take long for the man to conclude that Peter indeed did have a concussion. He ran several neurological and cognitive tests to ensure that the symptoms lined up. Unfortunately, they did. The practitioner instructed him to take ibuprofen for the headache and to limit activities that included physical and mental exertion. In other words, he had to relax. In other words, he had to not be Spiderman for... two weeks. That was going to be a bit of an issue.

On the way back home, Peter dozed off in the backseat. He really was exhausted and could really use that ibuprofen the doctor has suggested to take for the headache. But first, he couldn't ignore the aching in his stomach. He was pretty damn hungry.

"I don't remember what you said in that text Gwen..." Peter finally admitted to a quiet car.

"It was really nothing, Peter," Aunt May said dismissively, "I just invited Gwen over for a late lunch early dinner and we wanted to eat around three. We were hoping that you would be back by then."

"What did you guys make?" Peter was genuinely curious. His stomach was speaking for him at this point.

"Chicken salad sandwich and I brought some kettle-cooked chips that my mom got at an organic store." Gwen answered, "Remember, Pete, the ones that I told you about?"

"No... but any food right now sounds fantastic." With that said, they finally made it home ten minutes later. Peter ate a few bites and found his nausea coming back so he downed a glass of water and an ibuprofen before saying to the two women sitting around the small table with him: "I really wish I was feeling better... But I'm exhausted."

"Go to bed, Peter. There's no use fighting it." Aunt May gave him a warm smile before kissing his forehead and taking the plate from in front of him for washing at the sink. It left Gwen and Peter looking at each other. Gwen still had that look on her face and it was getting under Peter's skin, frankly. Maybe he should have been more careful - he would give her that. But he was not in the mood for the stink eye.

Peter stood and began his way to his room where Gwen readily followed him. About halfway up the staircase, Peter turned around and said softly to her, "I'll explain everything to you tomorrow. I know that look you're giving me, alright? Just please, _please _let me sleep." He cupped her face with his hands and gave her a kiss.

"Alright..." she muttered. Peter could tell she wasn't happy about that answer but Peter wasn't too bothered by it. She would just have to deal with it for now. "Please call me tomorrow morning. I do have work in the afternoon by the way."

Peter gave her a weak smile. "You got it."

She reflected the soft smile and they went their separate ways. Peter closed his blinds against the early evening rays, stripped and collapsed onto his bed deciding that he would take a shower in the morning.

6


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

The next morning, Peter still felt pretty bad. The headache was still there even with the ibuprofen but he could get out of bed and function so that was a plus. However, it wasn't the headache that was getting him down. It was the fact that he was going to have to avoid physical/mental activities and Peter knew that he was on the eve of something big. How in the hell was he supposed to sit back and let the whole world slide away from him? It irked him more than he'd like to admit.

After eating a light breakfast, Peter found himself sitting at their small table lost in his thoughts. He was mainly trying to rack his memory to remember what the suspect had told him yesterday and he was kicking himself inwardly for not hanging on to that important bit of information. It wasn't like he'd willed that information to go fuzzy, though... but it was on the tip of his tongue and before he could act (well, two weeks from now) he would have to be pretty certain about what the guy had said to him.

Aunt May finished washing the dishes and turned to Peter, saying, "I have to go in for work today in an hour but I don't know how comfortable I feel about leaving you alone today..."

Peter waved a dismissive hand at her. "Don't worry, Aunt May, I'll be okay. I'm just going to take it easy today."

"Are you sure?"

"I got all the drugs I need here." Peter laughed.

His laughter put a smile on his Aunt's face. With that, she proceeded to go upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. Peter reckoned that he ought to shower as well. And maybe with Aunt May gone, he could wash his suit; not only did it still have sand in it, it also now reeked of puke and sweat. Definitely not a pleasant combination. It needed a wash after all that. And then, he'd have it put up for a while in the small coat box at the bottom of his messy closet.

Two weeks...

Peter went to his room and took a long minute to stare at its disastrous condition. Peter was sure the last time it was clean was a week before finals week... which was easily a month ago. He ran with the impulse to clean it. It took his mind off of things and focused him , and right now he could use that now.

It was almost eleven; Peter didn't hear the shower running anymore and with half of his room presentable, he decided to take one himself. It was a very pleasant shower. The hot water felt good on his aching muscles. After the shower, his spirits began to climb as his headache was dissipating but it promptly plummeted when his phone chimed.

It was Gwen: _Are we going to talk or not? _

Shit.

Peter had nearly forgotten he had told Gwen that he'd call her and explain the scene that happened yesterday. God forbid he tick her off even more than she already was. He figured he would invite her over instead of just a call at this point. It probably would pacify her more.

Peter: _yes we are sorry it's been a slow morning. aunt is leaving you can come over whenever _

It was interesting - whenever a text of that nature was either sent to another's phone or arrived at the other, it normally implied other things. An empty house was a teenagers paradise; void of parental units, anything could happen whether it be general mischief or mischief of the other sorts. Gwen and Peter hadn't been an entirely adventurous couple; in fact, they hadn't even done it yet. Considering other couples they knew, they were playing priest and nun as far as they were concerned. However, it wasn't like they had anticipated to keep it so clean and damn near lifeless. They had really only started to get involved with one another when the crap went down with Dr. Connors and it had preoccupied a lot of Peter's time. Time they spent together was either stolen moments or non-existent. However, now it was summer and the waters had been relatively calm so the anticipation for their first time was hanging in the air, waiting to be acknowledged. He found he had little drive recently because of the circumstances he and Gwen found themselves in, constantly treading on thin ice about everything. He couldn't seem to get comfortable with himself about their whole relationship. He wasn't about to give up on them but he was beginning to get a cold, gripping feeling in his gut about the whole situation. Shoving that feeling aside, he decided never to act on those grueling feelings. Nothing good would come out of it. For now, they would wait but Peter had an unsettling impression that the waters that sat calm around them would soon ripple again. He could feel it in his aching bones.

Finally, Peter's room was clean, not spotless but presentable for company. He listened at the top of the stairs for movement or noise from downstairs. After a minute of nothing, and a quick peak in the garage, Peter concluded that Aunt May was gone so he went to retrieve his suit for washing.

Just as he was heading down the stairs with the suit in hand, the doorbell rang. Quickly, he threw his suit in the washer without looking, started it and went to the door. Standing on the other side was Gwen, clad in her white coat with Oscorp stenciled on it, along with her badge hanging around her neck. With her hair pulled back from her face, she always looked so intimidatingly beautiful in her work dress.

They exchanged a quick kiss before Peter invited her inside. "So your Aunt had to work?" Gwen said peering into the kitchen as they went for the stairs.

Peter just nodded. From the extremely small-talkish thing she had said, Peter could feel the annoyance radiating off of her. He was beginning to get really upset by her harsh attitude as of the late. It was like nothing he did was right and no number of rights could correct one wrong. Hopefully, after he explained himself he could alleviate some of her harshness. He was mainly upset because he couldn't understand why she was so upset with him...

Once they entered his bedroom, she immediately went to his bed and sat down. "Your room looks good." she commented with a laugh on the edge of her voice. Peter didn't know if it was a genuine laugh or a sarcastic chuckle. _Just for you... _he thought.

"I got hit with a pipe, that's what really happened." Peter admitted with a sigh, sounding as if he had been keeping it a secret for years. "I wasn't even in the skate park at all yesterday."

Gwen heaved a sigh. "How did you hit your head with a pipe?"

"I got _hit _with it. Someone hit _me_."

"Who?"

"I have no idea. He came up behind me."

"And what exactly _were _you doing?"

"I was listening to the police scanner," Peter gestured to the radio on his desk, "there was a call about two guys disturbing the peace or whatever... and I decided I'd go check it out."

Peter looked over to see Gwen pinching the bridge of her nose. Peter had about had it. He ground his teeth and growled out, "What?"

Her head flipped up. She had about had it too. "What do you mean '_what'_?"

"I mean what!" Peter nearly shouted, his anger seething from its restraints, "It seems like everything I do gets underneath your skin. Like no matter what I do, I get the cruelest looks from you. What did I do this time?"

Gwen jumped up; her speed startled Peter. "Look, Peter, the only thing I'm upset about is the fact that you have to lie to your Aunt all the time about everything you do because she doesn't know the whole Spiderman thing."

That caught Peter by surprise. He hadn't even imagined that that was the reason she was so upset with him...

"It makes me sad because she's the only parental figure you have and she can't even know the truth."

"You make it sound like I'm the one who made that decision. It wasn't like it was voluntary, Gwen." His voice was beginning to climb, "If it were my choice, I would have told her the first day it happened but I knew the second I let that secret slip is the same moment I put her in jeopardy. And I can't... I _can't _do that!"

"So lying to her is a better solution?" Gwen snapped.

"I don't know what the hell would happen to me if something were to ever happen to her!" Peter shouted, losing his cool entirely. "She's the only one I have left, Gwen! The only thing! I guess that's not something you're familiar with!"

The moment the words came out of his mouth, he immediately knew they were wrong.

Gwen wasn't nearly as tall as Peter but she was in his face, her grueling words making up for lost height. "Guess what," she sneered, "I really do know what it's like, so don't you dare act like I don't understand."

Peter drew back immediately, feeling like a complete bastard. The words had slipped truly - he didn't mean to hurt her like that. Ever. They just slipped. He didn't mean it... Gwen drew back as well; they both knew that their dispute was petty and cruel. Gwen fell back on the bed, sadness taking her face by the hold.

"I... I'm sorry, Peter..." she sighed, her palm at her forehead, "that was ridiculous... I really shouldn't go there with you."

"And I shouldn't go there with you either." Peter repeated.

She looked up at him, her usual ice-green eyes were smooth and sympathetic, like the pastel of a sunrise. Peter took her face in his hands and pecked her forehead. "I didn't invite you over to yell at you." he said with a smile.

She smiled herself. "Gee, I'd hope not..."

"I could really use your intelligence to help me figure something out." Peter pulled back.

Gwen grabbed for her purse and pulled out a folded up copy of the Daily Bugle. "Here," she said, handing it to him, "I've gotten in the habit of looking through the police reports ever since my dad passed."

Peter took a second to look over it. The paper was folded displaying a highlighted bit of text that read: _EAST BLANC - A man, 43, was charged with disturbing the peace and public display of violence. Spiderman apprehended the other individual; however, no sign of said individual, dispatcher said. _

The memories came crashing down on him. The whole conversation found it's way back into his mind thanks to a little bit of jogging. He turned to Gwen, eyes wide and immediately began to slurg what he remembered, "Yeah... I was watching two guys talk to each other about something and the older guy was getting pretty mad at the younger guy because he had... he had 'let something go' and then he punched him. I jumped in, webbed up the older guy and followed the other guy after he made a break for it."

Gwen took the paper from him and read over the column again. Peter wandered over to his window, lost in his thoughts as he absently played with his plastic blinds. "You let the other guy go?" she asked.

"Not really... that's when the 'other guy's' buddy hit me with that pipe and nearly knocked me out. Maybe I was a bit more vocal than I should have been but I started asking the other guy questions."

"Like what?"

"Just asked him what he was doing, what he and the older guy were talking about. He didn't really say anything, except..." Peter laughed, "except for me to watch my back."

Gwen made _hmph _noise.

"Not the first time I've heard that..." Peter muttered.

"So... if it's not the first time you've encountered this type of situation, why does this concern you so much?" Gwen asked.

Peter turned around to face her. "Because not only did he say for me to watch my back, he also told me stay out of East Blanc's business."

"East Blanc..." Gwen mused, "I've heard that before. East Blanc Rush. That's a name that's passed over our dinner table one too many times. It's a gun cartel that originated on East Blanc Boulevard. Hence their name..."

"So it's a gang?"

"Yes."

Peter chewed over that bit of information for a long minute. He hadn't really had that big of a problem with gangs or cartels or mob violence for a while. When he had first become Spiderman it was a bigger deal but as Dr. Connors took over the police's attention and frankly his as well, they eased out of existence. _It was about time they resurfaced_... Peter reckoned. But he wasn't exactly educated in whom the gangs were, where they operated, and what they did. He hadn't ever devoted much attention to figuring it all, rather he just dealt with their muck. But now he was going to have to dedicate some time to understanding what he was up against.

"Great..." Peter grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't know anything about them."

Gwen glanced at her watch and stood, approaching him, "They're not that hard to figure out, I'm sure. Do some research. I don't usually encourage poking your nose in places they shouldn't be, but desperate times calls for desperate measures. I get the vibe they might be a little ticked at you for webbing up one guy and then harassing another."

Peter knew Gwen was right and his shoulder slumped. He'd done it now. He had unknowingly started a fuss. Great. Great. He kicked himself inwardly. And he had wanted a relaxing summer. Ha, that was a joke.

"Listen, I have to go to work. I'll text you later." She gave him a kiss and walked herself out.

Peter remained where he stood in the middle of his room; too tired to move but too awake to do anything. Slowly, he made his way to the landing upstairs and watched from the front window, Gwen's car drive away.

Grabbing his laundry and throwing it into the dryer, he indulged in switching on the TV and finding something to occupy his time. He glanced at the clock on the stove, it read: 2:37. Aunt May would be home around six, he noted. Peter waited for his suit to finish in the dryer before he tucked it away remorsefully.

_It's just a hiatus. I'll make up for lost ground in other ways. _Peter thought.

His headache was creeping back into existence and he immediately took some medicine to kill the sting. With the TV turned onto a documentary about how the universe came to be, he dozed off and promptly fell asleep on the couch.

6


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"_Peter!_"

Nearly jumping out of his skin at the sound of his aunt shouting, Peter was already all the way down the stairs from his bedroom.

"What?!" he shouted back.

She was standing in the kitchen. The washer door was open and pinched between her fingers were a pair of socks tainted a faded blue, red, and a hint of purple. She turned to face him, physically frustrated and said, "If I've taught you anything, Peter, it's that when you do laundry, you _do not _mix the whites and colors..."

Peter cringed. He didn't even look to see if anything was in the washer yesterday before he had tossed his suit in. That was just his luck. "I'm sorry..." that was a phrase he found himself saying so much lately that it didn't even sound like words coming out of his mouth, just gibberish.

Aunt May examined the socks and then shook her head. "They were old socks. I need to go to the store anyway." she tossed them in the trash can.

Somehow, that dampened his spirits. He hadn't had the best couple of days. He and Gwen getting in arguments left and right and making his Aunt mad at him for various reasons and getting hit upside the head by some mobster goonie to top it all off. It was all going down in a descent, it seemed. He held his head high though and decided he'd just power through it. It wouldn't last forever, he knew.

Later on that day, he and his aunt decided that they would go to the store and eventually dinner. They took Aunt May's small pickup truck and headed for the store through the soupy NYC traffic.

"How are you feeling?" Aunt May asked from the driver's seat.

"A lot better, actually."

"Good, I'm glad to hear that." she smiled at him. "However, you're not going to be skateboarding or anything like that until the doctor clears you... I don't want to risk you hitting your head again and something worse happening. You're lucky it was only a minor concussion. Some people have to be hospitalized for trauma like that."

"I know..." was all he could say.

Yeah, you're not going to be able to be Spiderman until the doctor clears you is what Peter heard. It was pretty ridiculous - a superhero like him having to take a sick day (or a sick two weeks in this case) because of an injury. Peter knew his body well and knew that he would be one-hundred percent better in probably three or four days. Being able to regenerate cells faster than a normal human was an added bonus however, of course, he couldn't _tell _anyone that. So in this situation, he just had to grin and bear it. But he didn't have time to just "grin and bear it". He had so much to do, so much on his mind that it was almost overwhelming. After his discussion with Gwen the other day, he wanted to prowl the city and begin reconnaissance, whether it be when he was wearing the suit or just strolling down the street and talking to locals. He needed more information on the East Blanc Rush and any other cartels, gangs, or mobs that happened to be running amok in the city. Anything would help him figure out what was going on. It was all easier said than done and all he could do was contemplate it at this point. He knew though that he would have to start socializing with people who were more well-informed than he was because self-education would take too long and time was something he knew he didn't have a lot of.

The store was reasonably busy; not more than usual though. They bought their usual necessities like milk, eggs, soap, and all things of that nature. After spending nearly one-hundred dollars on groceries, Aunt May offered a small diner a couple blocks down from the store for dinner.

It sat in the belly of a big apartment building; it's large uncurtained windows exposed the interior of the diner for all the world to see. The walls were painted a mellow yellow and the tiled floor was swept and just moped, as indicated by the light smell of lemon lingering in the air. The entire dining area was lined with booths and a few tables scattered between the entrance and the bar, which from a large open port, the kitchen and whomever the occupants happened to be working inside in clear view.

There weren't many customers, in fact, besides himself and his aunt, there were four others in the diner. They were told by an older woman at the bar to sit wherever they pleased. They found a booth in the corner of the diner and began to look over the menu.

Peter had no idea what he wanted. He wasn't incredibly hungry but he knew he should eat something that had substance to it. It'd make him feel better later. However... at the moment, an unsettling feeling in his stomach began to settle and the itch in the back of his skull began to nag him. It was his spider senses that were bothering him and he couldn't understand why. Everything was at ease in the diner; there wasn't any reason for him to be expecting danger.

"What can I get you two to drink this evening?" came a woman's voice that was suddenly at their booth. It made Peter jumped; the sense was now a buzz in his ear, like an angry bee. What the hell?

He looked up at their waitress as Aunt May began to speak to her. His whole world drowned out around him and he focused on the woman standing before him. She was a tall woman with a full figure and had striking platinum hair, almost to the point of it being white.. Her eyes were angular and cat-like and beheld icy green. Peter knew who she was but he could hardly believe it was her. He hadn't seen her in almost two years. He struggled with the name; it was on the tip of his tongue. But he had gone to high school with her; she probably two or three years older than him. He couldn't remember though...

"Oh hey there, Peter, I haven't seen you in forever," the woman said, with a pretty smile.

That's when her name hit him like a wave. "Hey Felicia," he returned an awkward smile. "how have you been?"

Felicia Hardy. That was her name. She was a senior when Peter was a sophomore and he remembered clearly that she was that one girl that everyone wanted to date because she was very attractive. And this encounter didn't prove anything different from that. She was still attractive two years later but he had had a few encounters with her. Nothing worth of notability. In fact, this was probably the first time he'd ever talk to her. Was she the one giving him that itch or was it just the fact that someone he'd hardly know was crossing paths with him again? He didn't know for sure but he knew it was important.

"I've been alright." Felicia looked over at Aunt May, who was just looking at the both of them with a smile. "I'm Felicia Hardy," she introduced to Aunt May, "I graduated two years ago from Midtown High."

"Ooh," Aunt May nodded her head, but Peter knew that she was clueless.

She took their drink orders and was off. Aunt May immediately leaned in and asked frantically, "Do you really know that girl?" she turned her head in a way that made Peter think it was suggestive.

"No, no!" Peter nearly cried. "Not that like! She graduated a while ago, like she just said. I didn't know her that well. I just knew who she was."

"She's very pretty." Aunt May smirked.

Peter just gave her a long face. "I have Gwen..."

"I know," she brushed him off, "I'm just saying."

Felicia brought back their drinks and promptly took their order. The rest of their meal was pleasant and filling and Peter and his aunt chatted about a lot of different things. But then she suddenly looked up from her pancakes, "Have you heard from your boss lately?"

That hit Peter like a ton of bricks. Damn, he hadn't heard anything from Jameson in nearly a month. He knew Peter had school and he would just rely on pictures from other freelance photographers. But now that summer was here, he would probably just have to get back to work especially since he was supposed to not be Spiderman for two weeks. He had to find something to do to pass his time so he wouldn't go stir-crazy. He kinda missed taking pictures; it was something he really found enjoyable and the idea excited him. Then his mind went off on a tangent. Perhaps he could use the freelance photographer facade as a way to get more information on the gangs and such. He would think of it as undercover work.

He was beginning to see that this hiatus wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"No, I haven't," he replied, setting his fork down, "I should let him know that school ended a while ago. It just kinda slipped my mind..."

"Well, I think it'd be a good thing for you. You always loved taking pictures. And you have that nice expensive camera you got for Christmas collecting dust in your room." She grinned teasingly. Aunt May liked to nag Peter about the price of his camera.

"I know, I know... I'll go to the Daily Bugle tomorrow and see if Mr. Jameson is looking for any work, is that alright?"

Aunt May nodded at that and eventually, they went to pay the bill at the front counter. Felicia said her goodbye and Peter shoved the receipt in his jacket pocket. They left with the sun already fallen from the sky and out of sight. However, the city still bustled.

As they drove home, Peter's phone buzzed. It was Gwen: _just got home from work. _

Peter: _how was it today? _

Gwen: _alright, i had to walk a bunch of little kids through a tour of the oscorp buiding. that was a damn nightmare. _

Peter: _haha, sounds like it :p remember when i snuck in to that tour you were giving last year?_

Gwen: _rigghhhttt, my supervisor would have killed me if you didn't happen to be so bright. :) sometimes i think you should be in here working with us. i know you could do it. :)_

Peter: _i dont think i could do that. i know i probably could but it'd be really hard... i like being a photographer though._

Gwen: _yeah, that's true... i didn't think about that. and you're a great photographer too. :)_

Peter couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a smiley face in a text from Gwen. It had been a long time. He didn't want to get prematurely excited but maybe things were finally starting to look up for them... it was about time. Peter really hated being that way with her. It hurt him because he did love her and liked to see her smile and happy and not all up in his face yelling at him.

Talking about Oscorp brought an idea to Peter's mind and he had to ask.

Peter: _have you seen Harry Osborn around? I know his dad owns oscorp but i was just wondering if you had seen him _

Gwen: _no... mr. osborn is kind of a ghost. we only hear about him and don't actually see him. it upsets me because he's built a huge monopolized company and he never shows his face anymore. _

Peter: _oh... just wondering. i havent seen harry in a long time. _

Harry and Peter had been good childhood friends and even though their social status separated them, they always found that they were friends. They had grown up in high school together but in the middle of his sophomore year, he disappeared, saying that his dad was sending him to a boarding school. That was one of the lonelier parts of Peter's life because Harry was really the only friend he had and he hadn't really found anyone else to be decent friends after Harry disappeared. He doubted that their paths would cross again. But he would definitely be glad if they did.

After putting away the many groceries they'd bought, night was coming upon them and so was Peter's headache. He popped a few more pills and started upstairs, telling his aunt that he was getting to bed. It was nearly nine-thirty; it sounded early but he'd found that going to bed early had suited him better. He'd gone through a period of time where he would go to sleep at the oddest hours in the morning. But since he was "injured", he needed his rest. No, he really did.

He closed his door and threw his jacket on his chair when the receipt from dinner fell onto the floor in a crumpled heap. He grabbed it off the floor and was about to toss it in the trash can when something about it caught his attention. There was writing on it, pen. He opened it up and looked over it and it read: _Hey, Peter! ;P Text me sometime. -Felicia. _The handwriting was curly and precise and there was a number underneath it.

Had Peter seriously just gotten the attractive girl that everyone drooled over's number? Without even asking? This had to be too good to be true. He continued to stare at it, expecting it to disappear but alas, it remained where it was, blue and flourished.

The only question that seemed to float its way to the top of his excited mind was: What did she want? Peter couldn't imagine she'd want to try hooking up with a guy who was a few years younger than her. She must have known he had a girlfriend... right? Maybe she didn't...

He had to be really careful though; this had all sorts of bullshit written all over it. It_ was _too good to be true and Peter wasn't about to fall for it. Maybe that's what his spider senses were telling him: she's no good.

Or... they were telling him something else: she's important.

He couldn't understand why she would be but the two trains of thought struggled against each other and he wished then that his spider senses could be more specific instead of so vague all the time. Well, the spider sense was meant to alert him of danger, so why would this be any different?

With conflicting thoughts, Peter still wanted to give it a shot. He would probably text her tomororw afternoon. The temptation was too much.

Besides... what's the worst that could happen?

6


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

For a long time, Peter sat on the edge of his bed the next morning, looking over the text a hundred times. _Hey felicia. i got your number from the receipt from dinner last night. it's peter. _He shook his head and started over. _Hey felicia. it's peter. is there some reason you gave me your number yesterday? :p _He realized that sounded too flirty. Dammit.

_Hey felicia. it's peter. what's up? _

Yeah, that ought to work. He sent that text somewhat content with himself. He had no idea how Gwen would feel about this, about him sending a text to another girl. But that wasn't it though; it was the fact that a girl, an attractive girl, had given him her number and he had responded to it. Well, if she did find out, she would have to understand that Peter didn't mean any of it deceptively. Because he truly didn't. And Peter feared that she would try to make it seem that way but he could take it. Peter sometimes felt that Gwen's stubbornness and steadfastness had rubbed away Peter's timidness. At the same time, he felt it made him more hostile and ready to defend himself. It was true - she definitely kept him on his toes. It was nice but sometimes he wished that he wouldn't have to be so alert when he was Peter Parker.

Taking Aunt May's pickup, Peter decided he would head for the Daily Bugle building in downtown NYC to see if Jameson had any work for him. He had landed his depute on the front page with his Spiderman photos and Jameson couldn't seem to be pleased with anyone else's shotty work. It paid good but it was still freelance; it wasn't a steady income. If it was, he would have bought a new car or something. But the best he could do is fill up the pickup's tank with gas and occasionally pay for honestly hoped one day he could land a job with them, a steady job but he was still too young for that as Jameson liked to remind him. He wished he had big aspirations of going off the college and getting a degree in something but Peter found his future was tucked away in the alleyways of the city and along the building tops. Sure he might have had the smarts for it but he certainly didn't have the money and college debt was something Peter would not like to sit on Aunt May's little shoulders. She had enough to worry about as is.

Peter rode up the cramped elevator, plastered to a corner, waiting for it to hit the fifteenth floor. Jameson liked to sit on top of the pyramid, literally and figuratively. Jameson was a character, loud and boisterous, a get-stuff-done kind of guy. Peter had found him extremely intimidating at first but as he began to work with him more, Peter figured out that Jameson needed Peter more than Peter needed Jameson. Well, a concept of the sort. Peter did need the money; there was no denying that.

The Daily Bugle office was busy as usual, flying with papers and chattering with voices and the sound of machinery. Peter found his way to the back of the office where Jameson's cubicle was. His receptionist was sitting at her computer and she looked up when she caught sight of Peter.

"Hi, Mr. Parker. Long time, no see. Mr. Jameson will be pleased to know that you-"

"_Parker!"_ Jameson was suddenly standing in his doorway, large hands at his broad hips and cigar hanging out of his mouth. Furrowing his brows at Peter, he took the cigar from his mouth. "It's about time you showed up. I was about to go find a replacement. Get inside." He beckoned Peter entrance.

Jameson immediately went to his desk and sat down, slinging his legs onto the surface, cigar between his fingers. The fumes were pungent and Peter knew that they had been ingrained in the very carpet of his office by now. "I was sure you'd dropped off the face of the earth, Parker. Where have you been?"

"I've been kinda busy... and I was just wondering if you had any work for me?" Peter said.

"You've been busy!" Jameson spat, "we're always busy here and of course I have work for you! I _always _have work for you! Oscorp is having a big ball in three days and I don't have a single photographer free to cover the event. I'll pay you good if you decide to take up my offer."

"Yeah... yeah. I can do that for you, Mr. Jameson."

"Great!" he hollered, taking another puff or two of his cigar.

"What's got Oscorp throwing a ball for?" Peter asked.

Jameson swung his legs off his desk and stood abruptly. Normally, Peter would have jumped from his sudden movements but it was all to be expected. Jameson was a passionate man and often his interior wasn't strong enough to keep it all in so it spilled out onto his exterior. "A big business guy by the name of Wilson Fisk is in town and is going to be making a big offer to Oscorp, so I've been told... It's going to be big event and I need pictures, got it?"

Jameson motioned for Peter to stand and put a large arm around him, leading him out of his office. "I'm glad you decided to show your face back in my building, Parker, now get out of here before I get antsy. Get out of here."

And like that Jameson was gone in a frenzy. Peter walked himself out of the building but just as he was back on the elevator again, his phone buzzed, expecting it to be Gwen he smiled but realized with a spike of adrenaline, it was Felicia.

_Hey, Peter! ;) Glad to hear from you. How have you been? _

That winky face was unsettling. He chocked it up as a typo and replied. _ive been alright. trying to enjoy summer as best i can. what about you?_

He made his way back home and found that Felicia was pretty consistent when it came to texting. She immediately replied to him, unlike Gwen who sometimes took five, ten, fifteen minutes to respond.

Felicia: _ive been working most of the time :p trying to enjoy it as best as you can? is there something getting in the way of that?_

Peter was taken aback by how spot-on that question was and how it pertained to how he felt. He and Gwen arguing definitely put him in a bad mood but instead of moping around, Peter said: _its been kinda rough but im sure itll be better now :)_

Felicia: _Well, im glad i could help! ;) you know you've always been a good looking guy to me. _

Peter knew it. Felicia was a flirty mess and was taking pretty much everything he said out of context. But that didn't stop the two from talking, in fact, they continued to talk for the next couple of days pretty consistently. Even more than he and Gwen spoke. It was just nice to have someone to talk all the time, even if Peter had to constantly dodge and deflect flirty advances. He could control of himself and wouldn't allow her any closer than she already was.

But with Felicia and Peter talking more, Peter and Gwen were doing very much the same. It was giving Peter the warm feeling he recognized as love when he was getting the vibes that things between he and Gwen were improving. She was speaking more to him, calling him more, and laughing more. And that made Peter _very _happy.

Gwen didn't know about Felicia and Peter wanted to keep it that way. It wasn't like he was _hiding _Felicia from Gwen and besides, they were just talking. There was no harm in that and Peter was going to do everything in his power to make sure it stayed that way.

One evening, Peter found himself in Gwen's apartment, both sitting her in living room enjoying cheap tv dinners and flipping through the channels. It was something they did every now and again when Gwen's family was out. They usually just sat there and enjoyed each other's presence, doing normal things.

Peter was replying to Felicia again when Gwen looked over at him,annoyed, "Who are you texting?" she demanded.

"Aunt May," Peter said.

"Aunt May doesn't know how to text."

"Do you doubt the ability of my aunt?" Peter grinned.

"No," Gwen laughed, "but I think it's highly unlikely that that's who you're texting." she stabbed at her microwavable pasta tray.

Peter immediately averted danger by changing the subject. "I visited Mr. Jameson the other day."

"Oh did you? How's the grumpy old man doing?" Gwen smiled.

"Grumpy as ever," Peter laughed, taking a stab at his chicken and taking a bite. "he was happy to see me, or... at least I think he was. I'm not really sure. But he wants me to cover the ball Oscorp is having."

"Oh!" Gwen cried, setting down her tray on the end table. "That's what I needed to ask you! I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me to that. Shoot, I knew there was something I needed to tell you... Well... I guess if you're going for the Daily Bugle, there's no reason for me to get you a permission slip."

"Permission slip?"

"Yeah, whenever Oscorp does any public gathering like that, they require all people attending to have an authorized pass. Minimize competition coming in and stealing anything. Or anyone for that matter."

Peter heaved a sigh. "So needy..."

"Who? The company? Of course, we have a lot to keep up with. It's hard not be a big deal when you're responsible for most of the city's electrical energy and research."

Peter held up his hand and said, "All I'm hearing is blah, blah, blah,"

She threw a punch at his arm, "Oh shut up! God forbid I'm actually into my work, thank you very much!"

He shoved back at her playfully, "I am too! My work isn't just taking pictures, though,"

"Oh really?"

"I gotta make sure people don't decide to become supervillains and decide to become complete psychopath and destroy the city."

"I don't think anyone just _decides _to do that."

"Uh-huh?" Peter reached out and pulled her against him. She began to say something else but Peter stopped her in her tracks with a slow kiss to her lips. It had been a long time since he'd kissed her - and meant it. And he did mean it this time. Her arms immediately went around his neck and he assisted her with pulling her onto his lap. It had been a while since they had been like this and Peter just sat back and enjoyed the feeling of her lips on his, her body against hers.

There was tension in the air, Peter could feel it and he wasn't sure where it was taking him. Before he knew it, clothes were pushed aside, removed, stripped in crumples on the floor and he had no idea what was happening. He was running with his instincts; the heat and tightness in his gut guiding him as he went. She was topless, her breasts perked from the cold air of her apartment and he licked and sucked; her head lolled back and a small sigh escaped her lips. She ground against the bulge in his pants, winding him up even more. They had always ground against each other but as soon as her hand went to his belt buckle, he let her go. He wanted it now and he wanted it _bad. _

Gwen's nimble fingers undid his belt, slow and with a grin on her face, she dipped her hand into his underwear. The moment her cool fingers touched him, he drew in a terse breath. She held him firmly in her hand and slowly began to work him up and down.

Peter's entire body became rigid and he could feel the twisting in his lower belly grow tighter, all the blood rushing to his face. There was something exquisitely different about having someone else touch you; sometimes you get so accustom to your own hand that the moment you feel another's, its almost overwhelming. He felt like he couldn't breath, his chest was so tight. The feeling was so new to him and it felt _so damn good _that he could hardly resist the urge to groan his pleasure. She uttered a little laugh before looking up into his eye lustfully, positioning herself on the floor between his legs.

"Are you okay with this?"

"Oh, don't ask me that now," he muttered out between gritted teeth.

"Do you want this?" she extended her tongue from her mouth.

"What the hell do you -" her soft tongue flicked across the tip of him and Peter moaned deeply. Painfully hard wasn't even the word for it. He ached to feel the ridges of her mouth on him. He _ached. _She licked him again. He shuttered. "God," he huffed, "keep going..."

Without any warning, she took the entire length of him in her mouth and Peter stifled a cry. It was almost too much for him; the warmth, the softness. She sucked him in long and drawn, twirling her tongue around him as she did. His arms gripped her hair tightly, his head falling back. He wasn't going to last long at this rate; he was panting like he was running a marathon and whimpering uncontrollably. It was a feeling so _good _that he swore his knees were shaking.

Peter could feel himself reaching his point of climax; face flushing, the twisting in his gut becoming so profound he could hardly help himself from rising his hips in rhythm to her bobbing. He looked down at the sight of her, her blonde hair falling around her face, her head bobbing up and down... and that was all it took and with a long, strained moan, he came overwhelmingly hard. His entire body pulsated and tightened and he rode out the waves of pleasure.

Finally, when the waves had subsided, his heart and breathing coming to normal pace, he looked down at her with a goofy expression for sure. She just smiled, cleaning up the remnants of his orgasm with her discarded shirt. Her hands ran up his thighs, soothingly.

All Peter could say was, "I had no idea... you were so good at that..."

Gwen just laughed, standing up and starting for their many clothes laying around like love shrapnel. "I guess some are just naturals." Peter couldn't even move for at least five minutes. He was laughing at himself inwardly about it honestly. He was nearly nineteen years old and hadn't ever experienced a blowjob before. Part of it was sad but, better late than never?

Gwen helped him get redressed and she went and grabbed a different shirt from her room before Peter said his goodbyes and started home.

Upon getting home, Aunt May was sitting in the living room, glasses perched on her nose, a book on her lap. She removed her glasses and smiled, "Hi Peter. I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

Peter glanced at his watch and said, baffled, "It's almost nine? It's not early."

"You usually don't get back until almost midnight." she said.

"Gwen has work in the morning and I didn't want to keep her up too long." Peter just wanted to go take a shower. He was still in denial that he'd finally gotten his first blowjob and a great one at that and he was having a hard time keeping the blush from arising in his face. He didn't want Aunt May suspecting anything. She would have had a heart attack if she knew that had happened.

Peter started up the stairs.

"Did you at least have a good time?" his aunt asked.

Peter stopped for a second, and only for a second. "Yeah, I did."

6


End file.
